A New Beginning, or the End?
by Wildchu
Summary: January 27th, 1973: Paris Peace Accords. The end to the Vietnam War has finally come. Both of the belligerents are now coming to terms with each other to end this much hated war. The two nations, America and Vietnam, must now face each other at the conference. What will happen?


**January 27th, 1973**

**Paris Peace Accords**

Silence eerily filled the halls as the Vietnamese woman stood outside the doors, breathing in deeply. Today, all of the opposing forces were to discuss about the future of her fair country. At least among the leaders.

Bandaged and bruised all over, the small nation was in no shape to face her bosses and the others. She felt her muscles tense up as she crossed her arms over her chest, crumpling her newly sewed army uniform.

It was almost time, she thought, before those Americans would leave her country. There was a soft pang in her heart as she gulped, barely paying attention to the chatter in the room behind her. Did she really want them-...er him-... to leave..?

The Viet gritted her teeth, leaning back on the walls. She silently cursed to herself. Even today, she could not make up her mind. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed a certain blond leaning right besides her.

"So.. I guess this is it, huh?" the male spoke softly, a sad smile, his glasses sliding down to the bridge of his nose. The ebony-haired woman stiffened, refusing to even acknowledge the American's presence. Without looking though, she knew he was just as battered as her, some gauze decorating his cheek. Alfred took a deep breath, his bright blue eyes glancing towards her almost yearningly.

Kim-Ly's golden eyes stared down at the ground, the usual light in her eyes dull and dimmed. She showed no intention of talking back to him, which is understandable. Her throat started to tighten though, tears threatening to surface. It's been so long since they've been able to stay in one place with no arguments or outbreaks.

So long...and it had to be the day in which he would leave. A part of her felt betrayed by his acceptance of departure, but another part of her felt relieved that no more blood would be spilt from her precious citizens during this ceasefire.

Throughout the whole course of this war, the small Asian nation found herself more than once in a state of paranoia, switching on and off about frequently on what she had to do. Was she supporting the southern troops? Or was she supporting the northern troops? She didn't know.

The Viet yearned for a democratic government, just as the people in the south had, but after seeing how corrupt the leaders such as Ngô Đình Diệm, she had to make the painful choice of supporting the North's cause for the sake of her country. Grandpa Minh was more trustworthy than any of the southern leaders, she thought before his death, for he was the one who helped her through WWII and against the French.

The young nation's smile falter as he soon found his gaze on the ground as well, one of his hand gripping on the sleeve of his bomber jacket. "Hey...at least I'll be out of your hair now, right?" he let out a strained laugh, trying to lighten up the dark mood. "My troops...they'll be going home soon... As will I," he looked back up to her, hoping that she would at least say something to him.

"Yes. That is all true, what you said," she finally spoke up, feeling her nails start to dig through the fabric of her sleeves. Her voice seemed devoid of any emotions, which was partially wrong for she felt many, many burning intentions. "You have 60 days to, at least."

America nodded, pushing the rim of his glasses back up with his injured hand. "Yeah...," he tried to smile, his pearly white teeth flashing at her. "You know.. We had a pretty great time together..at least before this...," his eyes sparked in recollection. "The first time we met... My troops were flying over Hanoi to you know..drive those Japanese out," he crouched down slightly to try and get her gaze. "Heh.. I almost crashed the plane when I saw you on the ground looking up at me. But I didn't!"

Vietnam simply nodded, feeling her heart constrain again. "Yes. I do remember...," she spoke softly, closing her eyes briefly to remember the first time she encountered those crystal blue eyes. It startled her at first, for there weren't many people who had the same exact color of the sky above like he did. Oh, how long ago was it?

_The whirring of the propellers disrupted the quiet streets of the city, the wind whipping everything in its path. The Vietnamese woman stood in shock as she watched the aircraft float above the horizon, her dark hair swishing from side to side. Her face lit up with awe as she noticed the foreign symbols on the planes, flawlessly zipping through the air. Kim-Ly noticed one of the pilots in the crafts, smiling brightly as he aviated._

_Goggles adorned his head as he dove down close to the street she was at, and she was able to see those crystalline orbs of his as they met her own honey glazed eyes. Flashing a toothy grin, the blond male turned his plane sharply, inching close to the nearby trees as he steered back up into the skies. It seemed to the Viet that help was indeed on the way. At least, that was what the little voice in her head told her._

The small nation cringed at her flashback, stiffening more against the wall as she opened her eyes once more. She could still remember the small light of hope that beaconed from inside of her when she first met Alfred, but it was almost gone now. All she could feel towards him at the moment is regret. Hesitantly, the ebony haired woman glanced over at America.

"You were a bit of a pain in the ass," she whispered, a sad smile creased onto her face. "You still are." Alfred nodded, laughing softly at her small attempt to keep things light. Then an awkward silence pursued afterwards as the two gazed down at the ground.

"You know...," he started, breaking the tension. "You were the most beautiful woman I've met-...," the blond was interrupted as the doors opened, one of his generals walking out with a disgruntled expression. The man walked down the halls, queuing for the nation to follow behind. "I'm sorry...," was the last thing he said to her.


End file.
